On the other Friend/Why you may hate me cont.

Where was I? I think I was telling you about how I was the person who went for a long ride with Molly and Jim, Marissa's stepdad, along the cascade lakes highway last wednesday. It was pretty. And there was a waitress at the Cultus Lake Resort where we ate lunch. She was pretty. And quite forward. Without saying a word she made it quite clear that she would not be adverse to a roll in the hay with a certain young gentleman. Now, as you can imagine, this placed me in an awkward position, seeing as how I was sitting across from my girlfriend's stepdad, and next to one of my girlfriend's best friends at the time, and my girlfriend was not in attendance. I am all for some harmless flirting with a pretty girl, but not in such a judgmental atmosphere. I politefully declined the invitation. On the way home we made the mistake of turning onto south century drive, which is under construction, and ended being 18 miles of ragged wet gravel. When you're on a motorcycle, this is a big deal.

I'm bored with this story. Flashforward to the more recent past. Marissa, Madison, and Molly took off to the coast for the weekend, so I haven't spoken to any of them in a few days. Last I heard their campsite was full, so they were sleeping in a Wal-mart parking lot. nana.

Since I was suddenly free from the onerous burden of a girlfriend for an entire weekend I decided to finnnnnally have some fun. This is where you have my permission to hate me. Friday night after work found me wandering around the old mill in ripped jeans, rolled up capri style, and flip flops, drinking whiskey from a flask and red wine from a nalgene bottle, listening to an outdoor ween (wean?) concert and taking photographs of the sunset colored clouds. What have I become? Upset by this painful introspection I left Drew ogling some ladies at the Greg's Grill fire pit and bicycled home. Yes, I rode a bicycle too.

I redeemed myself slightly after work saturday night. Nick and I met Raszler the BeDaszler at Fox's billiard lounge for some cheap beers and cheaper pool. (It was free, the girl forgot to clock us in on our table). Fox's is not a hippy friendly place. It's somewhat trendy, mostly normal, and an all around a good time. I highly recommend it. On the way home Nick became enraged by a gigantic, muraled, biodiesel spewing hippy bus chugging its way through downtown. Where the beatniks mildly irritate me through their laziness, they throw Nick into a fit. As an outdoor education instructor Nick knows first hand about how the Rainbow People, as he calls them, come into a community and destroy the local wilderness, trashing public land and giving nothing back. His rants were about as colorful as the painted bus he was hurling vulgarities at. It all sounded quite bleak to me.

Today is Sunday, so I don't need to do anything. My plans include nerd noveling and hugification procedures at the weight lifting facility. Without having my young lady in the house I've run out of food and clean clothes. I'll keep you posted.